Winter Wonderland
by Amelia Bianca Black
Summary: In "Dreamland," he didn't want to enter. On Christmas Eve, there is nothing he wants more. Is she willing to let him in?


**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Crossing Jordan_. All this is for fun.

**Note:** To read this, you'll have to imagine that _Loves Me Not_ happened at the beginning of November. :) Also, you may find the title a bit inappropriate, but I think it fits the story in a way (or maybe I'm so fond of it because _Winter Wonderland_ is my favorite (happy) Christmas song).

**Merry Christmas!**

* * *

_Knock!_ So unexpected and loud the sound was that she jerked, her wrist colliding with the strings, and a high, unpleasant tone split the air. _Knock! Knock!_ Frowning at the disharmony that the still unknown, but certainly unwanted, visitor had caused, she sighed and continued the melancholic melody. 'C-D-G,' she repeated to herself, tapping her foot. _Knock!_ 'They'll leave.' _Knock-knock! Knock!_ Obviously, her optimism was sadly unfounded. "No, Santa," she growled under her breath, "I haven't been a good little girl this year. I cheated, and I lied, so you may well go away." _Knock-knock!_ Taking a deep breath in order to try to stay calm, she got up from the edge of the bed. If that was Nigel's or Lily's way to coax her into confessing what had been tormenting her, or if they were here just to torture her with small talk, she was going to tell them to go away. Loud and clear. She wanted to be alone; she was used to miserable Christmas Eves, what was one more? She didn't want to ruin her friends' holiday, either. _Knock! Knock-knock!_ Whoever was thumping on her door was a persistent person. She finally put the guitar away. 'Or, can ghosts of Christmases past really… you know, knock?' she wondered idly while dragging herself to the door. For a moment, hope flickered, the hope that the person she had spent almost all her holidays with – her dad – would be on the other side.

She wasn't that lucky. Looking through the peephole, she groaned inwardly. 'This ghost from the past can knock, alright.'

As on cue, the "ghost" spoke, "C'mon, Jordan. I know you're in there. I heard you playing." Another knock followed. "I need to talk to you." He paused briefly, in an attempt to find the right words. "Please, it's Christmas Eve, Jordan; have some mercy." A hint of despair could be heard in his voice.

Swiftly, the big red door opened, and Woody found himself in front of a woman who most definitely wasn't in a seasonal mood. A pair of dark eyes glared at him from under a creased forehead. She had only poked her head through the door, not bothering to make passage for him as she certainly didn't intend to invite him in.

"Will you let me in now, please?" he asked, hopeful.

Her eyes widened. How the hell did he have the nerve to come after everything? "No." was her curt answer. Her voice wasn't in the least bit more welcoming than her posture or her gaze. "I only came to tell you to stop making so much noise," she added. Then her lips curled into a clearly dishonest smile. "Merry Christmas," she told him in a falsely jovial tone before unexpectedly – at least for him – the red wood got dangerously close to his face. However, his reflexes were better, and he managed to slide a foot into the apartment before she was able to slam the door. She looked at him coldly. "I will ask you only once," she was doing her best to keep her voice low, wanting to know how he always managed to get to her, "to Get. Out. Of. My. Apartment." By this point, she was practically barking. She stopped to see if she managed to get her message across, but also to calm down a bit. Even if he still meant something to her, there was absolutely no reason for him to know that. As he seemed unfazed, she went on, her voice tranquil, "There is nothing we need to talk about at ten pm at my place on Christmas Eve. Everything you have to say to me can wait until the first working day."

He opened his mouth to protest, but then decided that maybe it was better to let her finish her rant and try to reason with her afterwards. However, she remained silent after her claim that they could talk at work. He realized that the opportunity to tell her everything that he wanted had come. The only problem was that now he found all his carefully rehearsed introductory sentences strangely lacking. Struggling to pick honest, but not pathetic words, he was quiet, too.

To her, he looked like a lost puppy as he was standing there. It seemed that he was confused, trying to decide which way to go, with nobody to give him a clue. She wanted to help him, but she needed to help herself. She didn't want to hear what he had to say; she didn't dare hear it. She didn't want… she couldn't be friends with him; that would be pretending, and she couldn't pretend any more. She couldn't pretend it didn't matter that he had made his choice, and that he had chosen somebody else. If he felt guilty about the way she had found out she was the second fiddle, well, that was too bad, but she couldn't – no, she wouldn't – exchange her peace of mind for his. She was about to speak again when some commotion behind the door of the apartment opposite hers caught her attention. It seemed that Mrs. Bonneville was at work again. Deciding to keep whatever was going to happen far from the eyes and ears of the nosy old lady, she grabbed Woody by the arm and dragged him inside.

He blinked, unsure of how he had ended up on that side of the door, in Jordan's living room. Of one thing he was sure, though: that was a giant leap forward. He smiled broadly, unaware of doing so. That grin of his irritated her. What the hell was he thinking? That she was giving in to his oh-so-charming ineloquence?

"I'm listening," she informed him, folding her arms across her chest. As he didn't react to this announcement, but simply stood at the same spot, looking dazed (or, as she thought, like a fool), she strolled to the couch and flopped onto it. She didn't really care whether he was going to talk eventually. The truth was she probably wouldn't listen to his nonsense anyway. Sure, once his speech was finished, she was going to nod and tell him they were going to be friends, just like they had always been. Then she was going to avoid him as much as possible again.

Gradually, he came back to reality. Nevertheless, he still didn't know what to say. To keep himself busy, he peeled off his coat and then continued to stand awkwardly beside the door. He cautiously looked at her, but she was sitting on the couch, staring at the opposite wall, expressionless. She obviously had no intention of making it easier for him, and he couldn't blame her. Mechanically, he dug his car keys out of a pocket of his blue jeans, and fumbled with them. After the voice in his head for the umpteenth time urged him to start acting like a man, he finally hesitantly walked to the lumpy couch and sat, leaving good two feet of space between them.

"Jordan…" he began insecurely, his face turned to the same wall she was facing, "I-I really think that…" _We should clear the air here._ was going to follow, but he chickened out at the last millisecond. After all, she _did_ tell him a zillion times that she was okay with his relationship with Lu. The problem was that his relationship with Tallulah was non-existent. For quite a while now. Hadn't Jordan been avoiding him, she would have known. On the other hand, why should she care? And what was he expecting? Why had he come? That had been such a stupid thing to do. He loved her, and his lack of tact and sense of timing were going to push them even further apart. What was he going to do now? "That was a nice song. I didn't know you played that well," he made an attempt at small talk, fully aware of how miserable and inappropriate that sounded.

She was fed up. Had he come to tell her _that_? Why couldn't he have the guts to be a man for once? "Yeah, well," she said, seething with anger, but succeeding in keeping her tone casual, "I got really emotional. It describes my situation so well. I played it for JD." She turned to him only to be able to see his reaction, and she wasn't disappointed. On the inside, she grinned when he winced and his lips turned into a tight, thin line. Saying those mushy things was worth it.

"Well, DC isn't exactly 2,000 miles away," he muttered almost inaudibly. "Anyway," he stood, "I should be going." To her utter amazement, he actually turned to leave.

Acting on impulse, she jumped from the couch and infuriated – with him, with herself, with the uncalled for tears that were gathering in her eyes – shouted at him, "Is that it?! Is that all you have to tell me?! I didn't call you, but I let you in, and here's what I got! Is that all you have to say to me?" She furiously dried her eyes with the back of her hand.

He turned to her. Maybe it really was the time to lay all cards on the table. "No! No, Jordan, that's not all I had to tell you," he retorted, losing his temper. "But why would you care about what I had to tell you? You have your goddamn Aussie! I hope you two will be very happy together!" he finished his tirade, but he didn't show any intention of leaving this time although he wasn't really sure why he wanted to stay.

"What?!" Now, that was just too much. "What I do and with whom I do it doesn't concern you the least bit! Why are you here anyway? You have somewhere else to be, I reckon!" she waved her hands around while uttering the last two words. "And I hope you'll be very happy with Lu!" she spat the name out.

"Lu and I are over!" he practically screamed back, his face dangerously flushed. "If you hadn't been playing hide and seek as usual, you would have known that! I-"

"Over?!" she cut him off. "Seely told me the other day that you were in Virginia with her!"

After a very colorful phrase addressed to the smug redhaired detective, he tried to explain. "Yes, I was! Yes, I was. You know why?"

"I don't give a damn why!" she interrupted.

"No, no, you know why? Because she needed a friend!" He chose to ignore her emphasized snort. "We broke up two weeks ago! Exactly five days after we had started dating! I knew… I knew she wasn't the one. And she knew I wasn't the one, too. Both of us… Well, she still loves her ex-husband, and she decided to go back to Virginia. I offered help with moving. That's why I went to Virginia with her!" He finally stopped to catch his breath.

It felt as though there was a lack of oxygen in the air. She found it difficult to breathe. What was he saying? What did he want to say? No, no, she shouldn't. After everything that had happened, they couldn't just kiss and make up.

"And that concerns me how?" she gasped out, her voice faltering. "I don't care about your love life. If you came here… If you…" Now she couldn't find the words. "Well, what's broken is broken. You have already gotten what you wanted from me. Then you threw me away like a piece of trash. And if you came for mo-"

He gripped her hand, a look of despair in his eyes. "Jordan, please don't say that." His voice was no more than a whisper.

To the surprise of them both, she obeyed. Paler than usual, she dropped her head, gazing at the floor. "What are we doing?" she murmured breathlessly before pulling her hand away and returning to the couch. She sat and buried her face in her hands, sighing.

He followed, and knelt in front of her. He stretched out his arm, but then pulled back, too afraid to touch her. "Jordan, I-I'm sorry. I didn't… I… After what happened at the inn, I was waiting, and wishing, and dreaming. I-I thought we were finally going somewhere. I thought we were finally on the same page." His voice was soft; there was no reproach in it, only sadness. "But days passed," he resumed, "and you didn't want to talk to Pollack. Not even after he found out."

She looked at him, an idea forming in her mind. She thought she knew where he was going with this, and she longed to tell him his conclusion had been wrong. But she was incapable of talking; she felt a lump in her throat choking her.

He averted his eyes from hers. "Then I knew. I knew you love him. You were right. You have grown up. You're ready for commitment… with him. You probably want to marry him, too…" His voice trailed off.

"Stop it!" she begged quietly, plopping onto the floor, beside him. "It has always been you," she whispered. At first, she wasn't sure whether she had said that out loud. She was sure she hadn't wanted to voice that thought. But then she made a decision. "It has always been you," she repeated, running her fingers through his already ruffled hair. It took him some time to realize the meaning of her words, but once he did, it was impossible to say whose smile was wider. He looked into her eyes, which were glowing with warmth. She was the most amazing woman he had ever seen. Had she been serious a minute before? He knew she had. Life was really worth living.

He mustered all the courage he had before speaking again. "Does that mean I get a second chance?" he asked, almost teasingly, but she didn't fail to notice a shadow of apprehension which quickly passed across his features, turning his sky-blue eyes into the shade of midnight blue for a second.

'I'd give you a hundred and second if necessary,' she thought, mesmerized by his gaze, by him. It was high time for them to put the past behind. He was the most incredible man she had ever laid her eyes on. Life was good after all. Out loud, she said, "Well, Farm Boy, methinks that, technically, this is your third… no, your fourth chance."

Although her tone was playful, her tender gaze, which melted his heart, let him read her thoughts. He slowly leaned in and kissed her softly, relishing the touch of her lips. After the kiss was broken, he gingerly took her hand. He brought it to his lips and started planting small kisses on her knuckles, absorbing the delicateness and the sweet scent of her warm skin. Some strange, but oh-so-good, feeling was spreading through her from her fingertips, on which she was feeling his soft, feather-light kisses, and she closed her eyes, sighing contentedly and placing her head in the crook of his neck. She felt light-headed, just like she had had a bit too much eggnog. Could this be real? Oh God, how she loved him.

After some time elapsed in a comfortable silence, she raised her head to look at him, possibly to tell him _the words_ – the words that had always terrified her, the words that she had never said to anybody but her mom, her dad and her poor hamster. There had been a time when she thought she could never utter these words because that would mean admitting to the listener and, more importantly, to herself that she wasn't in control, and there was nothing she feared more than losing control. Now, however, she knew she was able to voice them. What was more, she wanted to. She felt his arms slip around her, pulling her even closer. His embrace felt warm and safe, inviting her to stay like that forever. Being in control wasn't the most important thing any more. Being with him was. Maybe Christmas, the time of miracles and wonders, really was the perfect time for her to tell him that.

He placed a gentle kiss on her palm and, smiling his radiant boyish smile, lifted his eyes to meet hers, which were sparkling. While she was looking at the man she loved most in this world, a thought hit her. She tried to dismiss it, but it was like a boring fly, she couldn't get rid of it. At last, she surrendered.

"Woody, could you do something for me?" she asked him quietly.

He was so overwhelmed with her nearness and everything that had happened in the last half an hour that he didn't feel confident of his voice. He just nodded and left it to his eyes to tell her what he was thinking, "Anything."

"Look into my eyes," she resumed, her voice sounding too serious to her own liking, "and tell me what you see." She knew that if he "passed" the "test," it would mean that she loved him, and not the other way around. Although in her whole life she wasn't more certain of anything than of her love for him, she foolishly longed for him to pass.

He was taken aback. Frowning slightly, he started, "Jordan…" That wasn't exactly what he had had in mind. Climbing the highest mountain and swimming the deepest sea, killing the Hydra or Procrustes, seemed like child's play to him in comparison to this. "You know I've never been big on metaphors." Of course, he would do that for her, but he had a bad feeling about it. He feared that she would be terribly disappointed. To his horror, the image of a certain eloquent Aussie whose guts he hated crept into his mind. He was toasted.

"Don't think," she hurried. "Just tell me what you see." Her eyes were pleading. "Please."

He took her face between his hands and looked into the enigmatical depths of her amber eyes. God, how he loved her. She had the most fascinating pair of dark eyes, of that he was sure. But what to say? Something deep and meaningful, but not pathetic, for sure. But what?

"Don't try to think of something beautiful," she whispered, studying her reflection in his eyes, desperately wanting him to see what she wanted. She knew she was being silly, but she couldn't help it. "Just tell me the truth."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Jordan," he said with hurt in his voice, "but all I can see is me, my own reflection." That was it. He screwed it. Way to go, Woodrow! Give the man a prize!

Funnily enough, he did get his prize. Her hands clasped themselves around his neck and she claimed his lips passionately. After a long, exploring kiss, she pulled away a little, and her lips curved into a smile due to the confusion which was obvious on his face.

"I'll explain it to you later," she told him. "Maybe… Now I have something else to tell you." She paused for a moment and then the words easily escaped her lips. She hadn't even taken a deep breath or thought about it for a little while. "I love you."

His heart didn't skip a bit. It stopped completely. Could this be real? Jordan had just told him what he had wanted to hear from her for the longest time. And then she just kept sitting beside him, smiling her most gorgeous smile. She didn't try to run away. She didn't even avert her eyes. He was beside himself with joy, with gratefulness.

"I love you, Jordan," he said, reaching out to touch her face, his hand a bit shaky. "I love you."

He brushed her lips with his. They looked at each other, unable to speak any further. Their trembling hands, whose fingers were now laced, and their eyes spoke volumes, though. Closing her eyes, she placed her head on his chest and grinned as she listened to his heartbeats.

After an indefinite amount of time, he glanced at his watch.

"Already bored?" she joked, but she was genuinely surprised by his action.

He kissed the top of her head. "Not in a million years," he murmured in her hair. "But there is a place I would like to take you to tonight.

Later that night, when they were holding hands with perfect strangers and listened to Paul's soothing voice, they both prayed for things to stay just as they were. They both prayed for no more misunderstandings, no more stubbornness, no more walls. As Jordan placed her head on his shoulder again, Woody thought to himself how St. Inez would be the perfect church for their wedding. And this time next year their first-born could be baptized here, too…


End file.
